


Better Than Downstairs

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, post not-mageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Aziraphale's picked somewhere for them to hide out after Adam's rebuilt the world, but it doesn't exactly meet Crowley's standards.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	Better Than Downstairs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [layr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/layr/gifts).



> Written with gratitude for Layr.

“Oh, Angel, you couldn’t have done better than this?” Crowley sighed, looking around the bleak space.

“Crowley, it’s rustic!” Aziraphale replied, closing the door. “And a little colder than I anticipated,” he admitted. “Any chance you could,” he waved one hand hopefully.

“No, I can’t just,” Crowley said, the sarcasm in his voice mirrored in his gesture. “They’re not exactly speaking to me right now if you recall.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. The disappointment was clear in his voice. He glanced at Crowley as he admitted, “Mine aren’t either. I don’t think I should risk one myself.”

“Excellent,” Crowley snapped. “So we’re stuck here, in the cold then?”

“Not forever,” Aziraphale said with an attempt at soothing the grumpy demon. “Only for…a little while. Until we can get back to London.”

“Not sure why we had to head out here anyway,” Crowley grumbled. “Not like any of it matters. Not anymore.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished him. “Of course it all matters! And if Adam hadn’t stepped in, we’d be in even more trouble right now.”

“More than this?” Crowley said. He opened his arms wide, indicating the sparsely furnished space. It was cold, a single room containing a sofa, a table, a bed, and not a lot more. “Well, wouldn’t that be terrible!”

“Yes, it would,” Aziraphale said. He sat on the sofa, his usual upright posture a little ragged around the edges. “Besides, there’s not point complaining about it now, Crowley. We are here, for better or worse. Might as well make the best of it.”

Crowley looked like he was going to complain for a moment before the belligerent expression slid from his face and he sighed. “All right then,” he said, easing onto the sofa beside Aziraphale. He sighed. “So how long do you think before we can head for London?”

Aziraphale considered the question, answering seriously. “I don’t know. Buses are the only way unless we can arrange a private car, but with the amount of snow out there it’s unlikely the roads will be passable.” He could see Crowley’s expression and added tentatively, “A few days?”

Crowley pressed his lips together, obviously not wanting to upset the angel any further. “Fine,” he said. “A few days.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither prepared to talk about What Had Happened.

“I wish we had cocoa,” Aziraphale said wistfully. “And my mug.” He sighed. “I suppose that mug is gone, now.”

Crowley nodded. “Well, depending on how detailed this new version of the world is,” he said. “Adam might have put it back, right there on your desk.”

“Oh, do you really think so?” Aziraphale asked, clinging immediately to the idea. “It had little wings. I did like the little wings.”

Crowley grunted but made no other response. His glasses covered his eyes, making his expression difficult to read. Whatever he was thinking about was more or less a mystery. Aziraphale was beginning to feel the cold, his attention more on trying to control his shivering than figuring out Crowley.

“Cold?” Crowley said suddenly.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. His tone was apologetic as he murmured, “I should have found somewhere closer to town.”

“Not your fault,” Crowley admitted grudgingly. He glanced at the angel and made a big show of standing up and sauntering over to the bed. The blanket appeared to be disappointingly thin, but he dragged it off the bed anyway.

Aziraphale leaned forward as Crowley draped the blanket over his shoulders. It was as thin as it had appeared; the weight barely registered and Aziraphale waited in vain for the chill in his bones to ease. He pulled it closer, frowning at Crowley.

“How are you not cold?” he asked.

“I am,” Crowley said, “but it’s better than sweltering downstairs.”

Aziraphale groaned at the very idea. “I would gladly walk in there at the moment,” he admitted. “Even with your demonic friends waiting for me.”

“They are not my friends,” Crowley was quick to correct him. For all his declaration that he was fine, Aziraphale could see the fine tremors in his hands.

“Come here,” Aziraphale said, flicking open the edge of the blanket.

“What?” Crowley said with a startled glance.

“These corporeal forms require heat,” Aziraphale replied. “And this cabin is sorely lacking. I read somewhere that huddling together will preserve body heat.”

“Body heat?” Crowley repeated.

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied patiently. “Come on, Crowley. We can find somewhere else in the morning.”

Crowley hesitated, a pointed look from Aziraphale finally making him shift closer. He sat closer, but with a definite gap still between them, spine as straight as Aziraphale’s usually was. The angel was having nothing of it, scooting closer and bringing the blanket around Crowley’s shoulders. He wrapped one arm around Crowley’s waist, humming with contentment.

“Close enough, angel?” Crowley asked. He sounded more amused than anything else, and he certainly wasn’t pulling away.

“I believe close contact is required for this to be effective.” Aziraphale spoke quietly, and when he shifted, Crowley moved with him until he was sitting between Aziraphale’s thighs, the two of them sideways on the sofa. Once they’d settled, neither moved. Crowley’s body, while flush with his angel, was still tense. He wasn’t looking at Aziraphale, even as hands curled around his waist and Aziraphale’s exhaled breath danced across his neck.

“Relax,” Aziraphale murmured.

“I am relaxed,” Crowley snapped back.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale admonished, then paused. For a second he was going to speak, then changed his mind. Instead he tucked the blanket more securely around them both and rested his cheek on Crowley’s shoulder blade. Crowley was waiting for him to speak again, but he did not. Crowley wasn’t great at following the passage of time, especially the tiny increments humans insisted on keeping track of, but many of their minutes passed before he realised Aziraphale was perfectly comfortable as they were. He wasn’t asleep, but hadn’t moved, and despite himself, Crowley began to relax. It took quite a lot of energy to keep his whole body rigid and slowly he began to soften. There was no threat here, nothing about which he needed to be anxious.

Finally, with a sigh, Crowley felt the last of his tension drain from his body. Aziraphale was warm and soft and he was becoming drowsy in the comfortable embrace. Hesitantly he shifted, needing to rest his long legs at a slightly different angle. Aziraphale moved with him, not speaking, and again they found themselves adjusting to each other until they were lying side by side on the sofa, still wrapped in the blanket, arms and legs tangled. Aziraphale’s tummy pressed against Crowley’s, convex and concave fitting against each other as though made to complement each other.

“Better?” Aziraphale murmured. “Are you comfortable, Crowley?”

“Quite,” Crowley replied, though without the bite Aziraphale would have expected. “Thank you,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“Perhaps the night will not be quite so interminable,” Crowley allowed.

Aziraphale smiled, pressing his face into Crowley’s neck. He blew warm air down his neck, smiling again as the demon squirmed.

“That tickles,” Crowley protested.

“Apologies,” Aziraphale murmured, though nothing in his tone indicated he was actually sorry.

“Angel?” Crowley asked quietly, when their bodies had relaxed, melting together until both were comfortable.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked.

“This is much better. Than downstairs.”

“Good,” Aziraphale replied, pulling his demon closer.


End file.
